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This entry was posted on Tuesday, January 19th, 2016 at 9:14 am and is filed under circus of life. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed.
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Ummmmmmmm – I’m 70 and still going where the waiters are cute. I also insist that all my service people (HVAC, plumber, electrician, et al), be cute. So far, I’m batting a thousand. My HVAC guys, who installed my new furnace a few months ago, were beyond cute, the plumber who was just here was very attractive (and no plumber crack, thank goodness), and now I’m waiting and hoping for a cute electrician this afternoon. Please send up “cute” prayers for me. Thank you.

Maybe, just maybe the definition of cute changes with age.
with 30: Must have muscles and all his hair, white teeth and abs
With 40: must still have his hair, white teeth and no beer gut
With 50: Must have his own teeth and no beer gut
with 60: Must have his own teeth and be able to get up to greet me
with 70: Must have paid his third teeth and wear a not too ugly whig and not breathe too asthmathically
with 80: Must breathe

Memory failure is a real bitch. A couple of nights ago I forgot to let two of my grandcats out of the front hall after feeding them (I have to feed the little boys in the hall, while I feed the little girls in the kitchen — otherwise the boys, who eat faster, would end up stealing food from the girls)… so Oscar and Figaro ended up spending the night locked in the front hall. And yesterday I forgot to put the leftover casserole away after supper — I left it out on the kitchen counter, uncovered… I’m sure you can imagine what happened next. 😦

Milady Webworker read your comment, and to “I’m sure you can imagine what happened next,” she said, “Oscar and Figaro got you back for leaving them in the hall!” Right?

I don’t usually have serious memory problems (yet… um… that I remember), but there was one night a few months ago, we got home, and whatever we were talking about or doing, I completely forgot to let our most excellent dog out of the car. Wasn’t until later when I went outside to call him into the house and he wasn’t around that I realized what I’d done.

Good thing dogs are so utterly forgiving. He probably wondered what he’d done wrong.

Mrs. Webworker nailed it. 😉 Of course, Oscar and Figaro would have attacked the unprotected casserole whether or not I had locked them in the hall overnight — it had cheese sauce, and if there’s one thing Wisconsin kitties can’t resist, it’s cheese.

As for the episode with your dog, it’s fortunate that dogs don’t hold grudges. Neither do cats, or at least none of mine ever has, despite endless provocations from the household staff (i.e. me). Either they forgive and forget, or they just forget. Either way is fine.